Judgement
by Troublesome-monkey-dono
Summary: The idea of conducting mental evaluations for the Survey Corps is laughable when it is more the obvious that anyone who joins this cursed little assembly had more than enough mental baggage to legally term themselves 'crazy.' But who's counting anyway? (LeviXHange),(ErenXMikasa), (JeanXMarco), (ArminXAnnie)


Note: Well, so...uh...quite a while ago I finished a fanfiction for Kuroshitsuji and I had a lovely reader who messaged me and asked if I was willing to ever make one for Attack on Titan. And while the gears and plot lines are still rusty in my head, I guess I will try my best to start one. So, to Mistress of Fire, I dedicate this story to you, as you were the one who pushed me to do it in the end. I hope I make you proud somehow?

P.S. While I love the idea that essentially Hange being neutrally genderless, I am going to assume she is female here for my own writing's sake. It would kill me to keep further referring to the squad leader/ commander as Hange Zoe all the time because it doesn't sound correct every single time you use it. And really, calling her 'it' wouldn't be fair because I'm quite sure Hange has a gender. Anyway, so I will be referring to her as female for this fanfiction. Yep, read on please.

* * *

Chapter 1: Broken

* * *

It is impossible to label humans so perfectly, as though one could label spices or plants. One cannot simply attach and label a person in their entirety as one could simply label that this certain spice as cinnamon. A person cannot simply be labeled aggressive, kind hearted or weak. There is no clear distinction that could accurately label a person's personality either. Hange cannot simply label this person as a Type A personality, a Neurotic personality or even an INTP personality. In reality, the mere attempt to label an individual holistically is a futile attempt. It's a waste of time really. It makes no clear sense.

And yet, Hange does it anyway.

It isn't because she's 'crazy' as most claim her to be. It's because she is curious. While science cannot fully explain the advent of the universe, it does its job fairly well in quenching the abnormal pit of curiosity that she has developed over the course of her life. She's always curious. Insatiable curiosity remains to be the unrivaled force behind scientific discovery. And for Hange, insatiable curiosity becomes her unyielding motivation to fuel her passion in creating innovation for the betterment of humanity. Everything she does, at least she reasons, is for the betterment of humanity.

So she trudges forward, slinking herself in the mundane and the dark to work with the puzzling and the frustrating. Her work with the Titans remains to be the focal point of her scientific exploits. She's infinitely curious about the damned human-killing beasts for their mere existence is nothing short of a mystery. Why are they here? What do they want? Why do they only eat humans? What is motivating them? The vast amounts of questions runs through her head merely pile together until she is forced to write them down. In truth, she has kept a chronicle of her questions, dutifully writing every possible question she tries her best to answer once she formulates them.

And now, as she stared down at the sixteenth battered, leather-bound notebook in her hands, she cannot help but purse her lips. Sixteen notebooks, each with one hundred pages of parchment paper, tattered and bound together with chicken scratched, barely legible characters etched inside about Titans and she was nowhere close to answering any of them. She longed to scratch away her questions; to draw that satisfying long line across the questions to signal that they were wholly, truly answered. But she has generated more questions than answers.

It was disappointing really.

As she twiddled with the leather cover, she cannot help but glance at the chronicle of notebooks that she stacked neatly across her desk. Perhaps it was the only clearly organized system in her room, something that might actually impress a certain short-tempered midget she knew. Still, its mere existence was an insult to her. They should be answered quickly, not fester in an ever-growing pile on her desk. But it keeps growing and growing, much to her extreme disappointment. It was disgusting how much it was growing.

Hange let out a loud sigh, disrupting the quiet calm that overtook her room. It was around two in the morning, she gathered as the steady lull of a shouting Recon Corps wasn't heard outside her door. She made a preliminary stretch, arching her back up as she leaned back on her wooden chair. Dazed, caramel eyes darted around her room in a lazy dismay.

It was a wreck of a room, covered in dust, cobwebs and paper. Each section of her personal room was devoted to a certain 'area' as Hange generally labeled it. The perimeter of her desk was a cascade of piles of paperwork, books, scrolls and such that directly or indirectly were related to the Titans. The western side of her room, adjacent to her unmade bed and away from her door was a general area for the Scouting Legion. Admittedly it was the general area she largely threw any paper work Erwin would hand over when she was in an excited rush to pursue her current exploits about Titans. She wasn't quite sure how it managed to remain 'organized' in the limited sense, as each folder, pile, book, scroll and such had their own 'specified' spot. Perhaps Moblit had cleaned up for her?

And last, she took a quick glance on the area closest to the door. Perhaps this was the mess that drove the certain anal, over-compulsive Captain to purposely avoid entering her room in fear of contracting an incurable disease. This general area was accurately labeled as "Miscellaneous" and was the home of any point of interest Hange developed. Books and notebooks were strewn about, piled atop each other in a haphazard way, almost teetering to the edge in an avalanche of paper if the room even dared to shake for a mere milisecond. Around it were masses of paper, crumpled, wet or dry, molding and festering with mildew that was decorated with illegible handwriting that only Hange can decipher. She hadn't had a clue what she could have possibly written there. Perhaps it was a new species of mushrooms or flora she stumbled upon the outer walls. She spotted the remains of molting food under some larger piles and gave a soft chuckle. She probably dropped a sandwich in there when she was walking about. With a small shrug, she turned around and faced her desk once more. She'll clean it up eventually.

Critical eyes scanned about for a moment, allowing her brain to take time to regroup and plan out her next agenda. Then she spotted it. On the far corner of her wooden desk sat a large clear folder, looking as innocent and docile as ever. The Commander's Seal was stamped on top, along with Erwin's bold signature. Curiously, she peered over and reached for it, nimble fingers picking at it as though it might truly explode. She was always cautious about what Erwin would give her so formally. It never bode well.

But she was never a patient woman to begin with. So with a small shrug, she ripped open the folder and gazed at the content inside. And the excited smile that always seemed to garnish her chiseled face abruptly blossomed into a scowl.

"Ah..."

Bitterly, she stared hard at the words etched atop the first page. Mental Evaluation. She couldn't help but scoff. It had been a prerequisite of the crown to conduct a proper mental evaluation of all their soldiers in order 'to ensure that every soldier fighting for the crown were solid in body and mind.' As though the crown could openly afford to forcibly remove any soldier that enlisted into the Survey Corps. The shrill amount of soldiers that enlisted were dismal, often decimating any sort of contingency plan created due to the lack of manpower. And to conduct mental evaluations to further remove more people who weren't mentally 'fit' would simply erase the existence of the Survey Corps all together.

Letting out a shrill laugh, she chuckled at the pure irony of what she held in her hands. What was the point of even conducting this Mental Evaluation when it was clear that every single individual who enlisted in the Survey Corps were riddled with their own mental issues? The fact of the matter was; only the crazy enlist in the suicide squad. It didn't matter if they were forced or not. In the end, it was the insane that managed to survive for so long.

* * *

"You're joking. Seriously, Erwin. You must be joking."

The blond commander turned to give her a sparing glance, allowing his large shadow to cast over the room to where she draped herself haphazardly on the couch. Hange had a lopsided smile playing on her face, her lips itching to twitch upward in pure amusement. She stretched leisurely, hooking her arms against the head of the couch, leaning her head back to press it against the wall behind her. Her eyes scrunched for a moment, caramel brown eyes twinkling in delight as the familiar crinkle of skin appeared near the corners of her eyes. Erwin watched as Hange kicked her feet up, willowy limbs following as she plopped herself back more to a comfortable position.

"Hm?" he mused out baiting her to continue whatever sort of curiosity she came in to whine about for the moment.

Hange produced a familiar looking folder from behind her, seemingly crushing it with her weight as the crumpled and torn file is thrown his direction and slides on this desk a mere few seconds before he could even blink. Carefully, Erwin approaches it, stern and calm to peek at the contents only to shake his head and sigh. "You sat on it," he merely pointed out as his hands automatically began to flatten the documents against his oak desk.

Hange merely makes a flicking motion with her wrist as she finally picks her head up to stare at him. The crackling smile on her face is gone, replaced with a solemn stare that Erwin is no stranger to. Her lips twitch more a moment, as if to rethink what she would say before she bites her lip and pouts almost childishly. She turns her head away slightly as if to accentuate that point and says, "It's a waste of time."

"A mental evaluation is necessary Hange," he says evenly as he finally draws out the documents with in. "The new recruits have yet to have theirs and despite how much experience they may have, they have suffered their faire share of mental trauma in the last few months than what their mind may not be prepared for. We cannot afford -"

"Then let someone else do it," Hange resolves before Erwin could even begin to delve in the benefits of a mental evaluation, "have someone more qualified. Isn't that why we have a medical section in the barracks? Mental health falls under their area of expertise I presume." She nods to herself indefinitely, arms bought up to her chest as she links her ankles together.

Erwin says nothing for a moment and uses that time to critically study her. In truth, Hange absolutely hates those coveted stares. Erwin is cold and calculating as he is tactful and charismatic. In many ways, he resembles her in the same aspect. Erwin breaks things down into sections he tries to understand. And at this moment, she feels the cutting stare of his cobalt eyes dissect her for all she is worth. It's nerving and certainly more than unwarranted for this situation.

She matches his stare, sending a solid one of her own. She practically allows her face to pout even more, perhaps making it look more constipated and pug like than she should, to show just how much of a joke she thinks the evaluation would be. In reality, she believed it to be a pure waste of valuable time. It would be spent energy devoted to a question that hardly even merits a real answer. How fascinating, a soldier from the war front has mental issues. How utterly devastating. How could I have ever guessed? The sarcasm practically drips in her gaze as she begins to scoff more and more at the pure thought of it.

But Erwin knows her better than she thought. His stern face softens for a moment and he takes the opportunity to stride across the room, abandoning the files and sitting adjacent to her. He cannot help but smile as Hange jumps at his sudden intrusion, hands flying to balance herself as he unceremoniously flops himself into the couch, causing her body to lurch up. He hears her curse for a moment, a tangle of skin and bones as she tries to reposition herself. Truthfully, she needs to eat more.

And when he notices her flustered expression, he brings his face closer to stare down at her evenly. "It can't be anyone but you Hange, and you know it." He speaks the honest truth because he believed no one else was better qualified to handle it. It had to be Hange Zoe.

But said woman merely began to laugh at his face, chuckling earnestly as she bought a hand to press his face away. "Your eyebrows are even bolder up close," she remarks between her laughing fit. "They're so groomed!' she marvels for a moment, bringing nimble fingers to trace over them as though they were simply a new commodity to gush over. She laughs even more when Erwin abruptly pulls his head back, a dark blush covers his face and he coughs to deflate the awkward situation. "Oh don't be so shy Erwin! I'm complimenting you!" she teases, letting pearly whites shine his direction. The manic grin starts etching upon her face, almost worrying Erwin for a few seconds.

And he deflates the moment by taking his left hand and placing it over her own right hand. He squeezes it for a moment, rejoicing the moment when he takes control and refocuses Hange's attention elsewhere. "Do you know why I recruited you so early?"

"Hm?" she muses out, confused caramel eyes peeking at their interlocked hands in wonder.

"Do you know why I actively pursued your recruitment despite how young you were?"

"Mmmm...," she drones out for a moment before a small smile flashes on her lips. Her eyes twinkle in nostalgia as she cocks her head to the side in thought. "I believe we first met when I was eleven, when you caught me attempting to cross the wall to collect herbs."

"It was too dangerous."

"It was worth it!"

"You developed a modified 3D maneuver gear to fit your size."

"I was too small to fit into the normal one!"

"You wouldn't have gotten your hands on one even if you tried," he simply reminded her.

Eyes twinkling mischievously behind her glasses, she flashed him a copious grin. "If you say so."

Satisfied, Erwin drew back, patting her hand and drawing up a small smile in return. "And that is precisely why I commissioned your early recruitment into the Survey Corps Hange. Your attention to detail is striking. You don't merely observe at a glance. You study. You make the effort to understand. And you don't stop. That is your unrivaled strength." Finally, bringing both hands to cup her shoulders, "And that is why only you are qualified to conduct this mental evaluation."

"No."

"Hange...what happened? You use to find people so interesting as well. You-"

"You're a shrewd man Erwin Smith," she whispered out, finally letting the frustration she felt ebb out her cracking facade. She sat, finally allowing herself to glower at her commander, relaxed body turning rigid under his touch. Erwin watched as the laughing face of Hange Zoe turned sour, caramel eyes darkening into a cloudy brown and smile lines disappearing into a grave frown. Hange allowed her head to cock to the other side as though considering something in head for a moment before sighing deeply. The tired lines under her eyes became visible, letting the light illuminate the shadows of her face for a brief moment. "You know why I can't do it."

"You can," Erwin assured, hands refusing to leave her shoulders for a mere moment. Erwin had watched as Hange grew, practically a decade under his watchful vision and he knew that she needed to be grounded by a physical stimulation. Otherwise...

"I've studied people Erwin," she goes on under her breath, "They're not...people aren't..."

"They're hard," Erwin tries to finish for her, "I know. They're difficult. They're not homogenous. They're multifactorial. But -"

Hange shakes her head firmly, her chestnut mane flying behind her in protest. For once, Erwin sees the uncertainty that flashes on Hange's face, "No Erwin," she says as she brings shaking hands to place on top of his, "they're too broken. There isn't an answer for the broken, Erwin. There never was."

* * *

Hange wasn't sure how she suddenly ended up taking a leisurely stroll down the darkened hallways, boots clicking with every step she took. The light outside told her it was well beyond hours of the night, bordering upon dawn perhaps. She let out a guttural moan of frustration as she glanced down at the documents she carried. The damned mental evaluation papers peeked from inside the folders, almost mocking her of Erwin's abrupt victory. In all honesty, she wasn't sure how Erwin even managed to convince her to do the mental evaluation as thoroughly and properly as she could. Because really, what made her suddenly change her mind?

Perhaps he suddenly pulled rank? She thought back to the conversation she hand with the blond stoic commander for a moment and shook her head. No, Erwin was far too prideful to bother pulling rank. While his charisma had almost won her over with yet another marvelous speech, it wasn't a glittering parade of genius that swept her off her feet. Hell, she didn't even know what happened. She was almost tempted to turn around for another round of fighting when she noticed a light in her own bedroom.

Odd. She was sure she blew all the candles off before departing for Erwin's office. She didn't want to waste more candle wax when she wasn't even using them properly. Was there someone in her room? Were they tampering with her research? Quickening her footsteps, she practically flew to wooden door, almost throwing it off their hinges in her haste to step inside. And she was greeted with an admittedly normal sight.

Captain Levi sat on her desk chair in a relaxed position, legs tucked in front of him as he cradled one of her notebooks in his hands. The same disinterested face shone against the illuminating candle as sharp, blunt greys scanned her writing with almost certain dismay. Hange watched as he lazily flipped the page, before bringing it down to the desk and turning to acknowledge her presence. "Oi shitty glasses," he called, "your writing is a piece of shit."

"Levi!" Hange half screeched as she stepped inside and closed the door, "you scared me! You can't just come into people's room and rummage to their stuff like that! What are you even doing here!?"

Levi sits back and merely stares back at her, an even gaze of pure disinterest bordering on amusement. He takes in her flustered and rugged appearance as she tried to catch her breath, noting the distinct soiled uniform she still wore. She hasn't taken a bath for two days. He notes that her hair is an uneven chicken coop atop her head, unbrushed and frizzy as always as though it had no clear choice but to grow and fester upon her skin like a brown greasy mold. Her glasses are askew, sliding down her arched nose due to her haste. She's shivering slightly, perhaps due to the cold or the sudden trepidation that someone could have tampered with her life's work. The limber tan hands clutch a milieu of documents, all crumbled and tattered under her fingers. They never stood a chance. All in all, Hange looked as shitty as ever.

Raising one skeptical eye he nodded over to her general area of Survey Corps memorabilia, pointing at stack of notebooks that were pushed in a corner. The pile almost reached the vaulted ceiling, five large columns thick with stacks of notebooks atop each other. "You stopped writing about them huh?" he says aloud, the proverbial question lingering unspoken between them. Why did you stop?

"Yeah...," Hange trails off as her rigid posture relaxes and she fidgets in her spot. For some reason, she feels like hunted prey, frozen in her spot like a sitting duck. She fidgets with the folder in her hands, tan nimble fingers flying about as she attempted to redirect her thoughts. Really, she didn't want to talk about this right now. She didn't want to talk to Levi about this right now. She didn't want to conduct the mental evaluation tomorrow as Erwin wanted. She didn't want to 'get to know' the new recruits even more than she already did. All she wanted was to study Titans. All she wanted was -

The harsh drag of the chair being pushed back pulled her from her train of thoughts and she visibly flinched at the sound. Like a slow, perhaps majestic but small panther, Levi rose from his position, hands leaving the notebook upon her desk as he stalked towards her. Like a predator finally reaching its intended target, he stood in front of her in silent scrutiny. It was clear he was here on business; otherwise he would have never volunteered in placing himself in immediate danger by actually entering the domain of Hange's filth. But he was curious this time, at the sudden shift in ideas that only Hange could manage.

And while he so clearly found many faults in the woman that stood in front of him, he found none that warranted any immediate changes on anyone's behalf. Except for tonight when he discovered that she had willingly ceased an activity that she should have always done. And it unacceptable. So he points back at the lonely notebook dropped unceremoniously on her desk to bring forward his reason for staying in such a god-damned, disgusting room. "It hasn't been written on for two weeks." He is blunt and precise in his statement, making Hange flinch even more as she kept the even glare on the remains of what could be a floor.

And as bull-headed as Hange was, Levi was equally so. Thus he stood his ground, arms folded tightly to his chest, piercing eyes mocking her for her sudden ineptitude. "Why?" he finally asks, breaking that awkward bout of silence between them with a chilling question.

Hange feels the sudden rise of frustration in her gut, blooming towards her chest and up to her head before she could even grasp her sudden burst of emotion. "Why do you want to know?" she snapped back just as venomously, finally flailing under the pressure of his gaze. And for a second, she sees that disgusted look of judgment on Levi's face. Selfish. The sudden shame that hits her is almost weakening. Her mouth slackens for a moment before Hange wills herself to speak, feeling as though she suddenly needed to justify her actions. "I didn't just stop without a reason you know!"

But Levi's face doesn't change. For a second, Hange was almost afraid that it wouldn't change; that he wouldn't understand why she had to stop that. The unexpected wave of fury hit her before she could register anything else and she gritted her teeth in response. Because fuck it. Because suddenly, she feels like she's backed into a corner by both Erwin and Levi. Knowing her luck, Mike might as well just chuck her into hell with one sweep of his gigantic arms. Really, it's far too hot in here, despite the cold dew of the morning. She's shaking underneath Levi's glare, feeling all too small that she couldn't even find the irony in it to laugh. And fuck it, she's sweating profusely and feeling entirely too guilty for her own good. And god, why the hell did she actually stop it? Why was she so weak she had to succumb to that? And who the hell gave her to the right to even believe she had a justified reason for stopping when she knew full well that -

"Ugh! Stop staring at me like that!" she finally cried out, hands flying as she desperately chucked the remains of the folder in her hands over Levi's direction, paying no mind to the flurry of papers that flew in every direction. The small, childish side of her mind earnestly wished that Levi received a dozen or so deep paper cuts to the face for all of his scrutiny. As she did, she stalked across the room, practically launching herself in the cocoon of her bed (if she were even allowed to call it that) in a poor attempt to be left alone. She wasn't in the mood arguing with Levi for she found that her energy was well spent debating with Erwin for an hour on the merits of mental evaluations. So she's tired, rightfully so and could no longer spare any more energy on yet another heated debate.

Liar.

She relished debates as much as she relished innovation. Except this time, she is all too tired to care. She's exhausted any plausible resource she had to even give a fuck of the small captain's presence in the room. And goddamn it, she wasn't in the mood to suddenly feel all she was feeling right now because it wasn't fair. She feels the explosive prick of tears gather in her eyes and she silently curses herself for feeling so emotionally spent. Because for once, she has no clear indication of her emotional tirade and all she wants is to stop and relax for a moment. "I'm tired Levi."

"You're full of shit, Hange."

Perhaps it was the sound of pure judgment in his voice that made the torrent of rage just wash over her, but Hange found herself bolting upright in fury. "What do you want me to do Levi!?" she finally cried out, "I'm fucking tired of this shit!"

She doesn't even wait for him to respond as her hands starting flying up to point at this and that until her point lands on the column of notebooks placed adjacent to her bed. For a moment, she almost sobs and chokes on her own invisible tears before she buries her face in her hands and sighs. "I can't do it anymore Levi! I can't!"

"You never had trouble before."

And the maniacal grin takes hold of her face as she raises her tear stained eyes up to him in dismay. "Do you know who hard it is to write about how they died?" When Levi doesn't answer she practically blubbers where she sits. "Officially we say the poor sap was killed by a titan. We label them as KIA or MIA and be done with it. But do you really...fucking KNOW how hard it is to explain their cause of death!?" And she breaks from her conundrum for a moment to steer her gaze to Levi, eyes dazed and teary before her pupils constricted and refocused.

Silently, she drops her gaze to the blanket pooling around her legs. Tentatively she picks at the wool and begins listing off all she wrote in her notebooks. "Some poor saps, the lucky ones, are snapped in half. Literally. Spinal vertebrae is broken near the Lumbar area at L1 and L3. Nerve endings decimated. Muscle, tendon, fat, skin lacerated. Bones grinded. It was a fast death, you could presume, assuming the poor sap was snapped in half quickly."

In a flurry, she drags herself away from Levi to the other side of the bed, pushing aside precious books and notes to the floor, not caring for once as her research littered about. Shaking hands are flying about, picking at each notebook like cylindrical, each touch certain and unyielding as she unloaded her frustrations on a disinterested audience.

"This one," she picks at a notebook on the second column, the 234th notebook from the bottom, "this poor girl's 3D gear wrapped around her when she was trying to escape a titan. Had a head on collision on the ground. Her brain matter splattered everywhere. Do you know what the look of splattered brain is? Kind of like...ground meat right after you grinded it. The head's a vascular area. Lots of bleeding. Part of her skull cap indented in you know and the pressure practically blew her brains out. The indentation was about 3 milimeters deep in the prefrontal cortex." Numbly, she showed her fingers, ticking off a measurement of about 3 milimeters. "Doesn't seem like a lot but the girl didn't stand a chance. If she didn't blow her brains off, she would have died of intracranial pressure and hemorrhage anyway."

She doesn't even bother stopping her descent as she picks at another notebook on the fourth column, notebook 468. "This guy, he was a cool dude. Smiled a lot at nothing. Got swallowed whole in a twelve meter titan. Most assume that by then people are already dead by the time they land in the stomach." She shrugged, a mechanical and frigid shrug, "except you get swallowed whole. And you land in a soup of hot acid. Except you know, it's a slow death. The place is hot and if you're lucky you can die of asphyxiation if you swallowed the material. But when the damn titan begins to literally steam, it'll stew you alive. It's agonizing to think about. Your skin is fried you know? Your skin will just burn, your pain receptors just firing and firing. And everything will just hurt. It'll blister and break and the acid will start to corrode your insides. And you just sit there and take it?"

She bites her lip, choking down a small sob as she directs her gaze at Levi. He's closer now, crouching low beside her, face impassive for a moment. He allows her to carry on and she does. "You know what happens to organic material in an impossibly hot place Levi?" she twirls her pointer finger against the books almost thoughtfully, "At about 400 degrees Celsius, organic material combusts. You know...like a firework. How ironic is that? A firework inside a steam titan. Haha..."

Slowly she procures another one from the first column, notebook 68. "This guy was really sensitive. Don't know why he even volunteered for the Survey Corps. But he was light on his feet. On our 5th expedition, he spazzed out after an aberrant attacked the squad. The thing went after a few of the members and he swung back. I ordered him to keep up or he would be left behind and you know what he did? He just stood there with this stupid grin on his face. And he said Tell Sonia I really love her. And he slits his throat with his own damn weapon." She makes a clean motion against her own throat for emphasis, a lengthy jerking motion as she does it. "Except the dolt didn't use enough force to kill himself in one fucking swipe. Didn't even cut through the carotid artery. And there's just him on the fucking ground, neck bleeding and drowning in his own blood. And he's smiling. God damn it!"

Hange's a flurry of emotion as she begins to choke at her own words, glasses sliding helplessly against her nose until her hands knock it away as she tried her best to stop her tears. To Levi, Hange looks like she's almost hyperventilating as her chest starts heaving in more and more air until a pathetic wheeze is coming out her gaping mouth. She's sweating bullets, secreting snot, and shaking far too much to be healthy. And suddenly she's lost it. She rears back and starts laughing, not even a demure laugh you would expect from a woman. It's a chortle of a laugh, loud and impossibly high pitched, as she practically roars. "Ah...I don't even know who Sonia is!" she cries out between her batted breaths. "Who the fuck is that!?"

She's lost it.

So Levi does what he can only do. He takes a step back to examine the sensitive spazz pooled on the floor, a quivering leaf covered in sweat, tears, snot and filth. Absolute filth. Nose scrunching in disgust, he brings forth a gloved hand and stretches it front of Hange's face. She's far to dazed to notice, a cloudy broken look plastered on as she mutters incoherently to herself. And he swings, putting a large amount of force into his swing and watched as Hange's face is twisted to the side. She's almost caught unaware, her face a mixture of constipation and shock as her brain starts to register the sudden infliction of physical pain she feels.

"Ow!" she cries out, pressing her own hand against her bruising right cheek, "what the hell Levi!?" She feels her cheek muscle twitch and throb, turning into a hot red spark as the muscle contracted. Flinching, she pressed against it again. "Ow!"

"Enough Shitty Glasses," Levi said as he stood up and straightened himself. Officially, his job is done. Sparing her a glance he took a breath and said, "You're the idiot who wanted to do this in the first. It was your idea to write down every damn thing you observed about every new recruit that joined the Survey Corps. And it was your conviction to finish it until the end. Don't suddenly do a crappy job because you were too weak to finish it. That isn't you." With that, he left in a haste, perhaps feeling the burn of inhabiting a filthy space for far too long.

The sudden slam of the door broke her thoughts and Hange suddenly felt the pangs of being alone once more. She sat, legs crossed close to her precious bundle of notebooks, tear stained eyes taking in all the hard work she has done over the years. That's right. It was her idea. It was her choice.

A long time ago, Hange got into the habit of simply writing down all that she observed. Perhaps it was a way to occupy her time as a child, but she found that often, she her observations and judgments were so intensive she often forgot her own train of thoughts after a while. Thus, the advent of simply writing them down became a stringent habit she developed well over her pre-pubescent years. It was when she joined the Survey Corps did she truly start cataloguing all experiences with the people around her. And as her thoughts grew, so did her collection of notebooks. At first, she believed her little observation notebook was innocent. Innocent in that she wrote of the little anecdotal times she spent with teammates during their formal training. She wrote of their hopes and dreams, comparing theirs and hers, talking of the future they all envisioned. And it was a book full of light memories she could read back to and smile.

Until it wasn't.

Life in the Survey Corps wasn't made for the innocent and to foolish. The first friend she made has simply devoured in front of her. Snapped in half like a twig, both parts chewed and relished by a Titan she could no longer remember. But she remembers returning the barracks numb and cold and oh so alone, to find her lonely notebook waiting for her in the room. She made her first real entry that night.

Then the years went by and Hange found her collection of notebooks grew in a disgustingly thick size. And to her horror, all of them ended the same way. Killed by titan due to...Missing in action during...Died in the hospital...Unknown. And while she realizes that her collection grew to more than five hundred people, all dead and gone, she could not go on writing the lie she did when she made her formal reports. Formal reports deemed things to be summarized and made pretty for the higher ups to read. There was no room for the truth in there. None at all. So she writes of how they really died, making it a point to try and explain exactly how it happened, no matter how openly grotesque and traumatic it was.

Once upon a time she cried upon every final entry, grieving and mourning the loss of yet another valued member of the Survey Corps. A valuable ally. A friend. And then, once upon a time, she believed that perhaps there is one who may finish the pages of her chronicles and still be alive. Once upon a time, she believed in so much.

Perhaps it was her third year into chronicling the lives of the people around her when Erwin and Levi find out about the extent of her research. Honestly, she expected them to be angry at her, to be irritated that she was the literal shadow that catalogued people's movement like an obsessed serial killer. Except, they weren't. They encouraged her work because...because...

"Because this is real proof that their sacrifice wasn't in vain. That they were heroes."

"Because this shows that they lived."

And Hange smiles, despite her hiccups and tears. She spreads her fingers around her face for a moment, leveling her head for a second to gather her thoughts. She takes in a long deep breath of air and pushes it out of her mouth before suddenly steeling herself once more. Because this was proof that they mattered. They existed. They were seen. They were loved. And they were appreciated.

"Right," she whispers to herself as she pushes herself off the ground. Wobbling, she hauls herself to her desk and stares down at the notebook Levi had discarded minutes ago. Oh...it's his notebook. She chuckles for a moment and flips into the next vacant page. How nice, he's half way there. With shaking fingers, she brings forth her feathered quill and dips it in the ink, taking a while to ensure it doesn't drip.

She almost smiles when she starts her first sentence. Today, Levi slapped me on the face. And as she thinks about it, she is flooded with a certain warmth and gratefulness for the ill-tempered captain, but all the same she finds herself pushing his notebook aside. No, now is not the time to do such an entry. Eyes peering at the mental evaluation papers littered at the floor, she turns back to her desk and sighs. "Right."

Deftly, she reaches into one of her drawers and retrieves the stack of notebooks prepped on her desk, courtesy of that certain midget captain, and opens it on the first page. Shaking her head, she writes the first name that pops into her mind in big bold letters.

EREN JAEGER.

She couldn't help but let out a small whistle despite her quivering voice. "What a kid..."

* * *

Note:

So...uhm...okay honestly, I have no idea why I'm doing this Attack on Titans fanfiction. While I absolutely adore this anime and always thought that there are some very authentically well written fanfiction written out there made by very talented people, it was never a fandom bandwagon I wanted to hitch. Why? Well simply because it remains to be an anime that is forever changing. You know what I mean? The characters, the plot twists, the new developments turn in such a way that often might surprise me because it uncovers a new light on a character's personality. And for me to be able to try and understand the character and try to mold it in a way that I can work with it becomes uncomfortable sometimes. But well, I'll try. For the most part, this is the few times when some characters will be stringently out of character. And really, I have to apologize for it. That just means I didn't grasp the character well enough to understand them. And I know that's sad.

Either way, please comment/review on what you think. It would be much appreciated. Sorry for the grammar and spelling mistakes. English isn't my first language sooo...yeah. Thank you very much for reading.

Troublesome-monkey-dono signing out.


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